


Country Cold

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel is impervious to Russian snow. Apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Country Cold

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fic for Buffycuddlespigs’ “Chekov/anyone snow fluff” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sometimes, Hikaru does miss the Enterprise. Their brief stays on Earth are never long, and they’re few and far between, but that’s as it should be; space is his home and always will be. His cot aboard the ship is where he’s used to waking up, and nothing else can match the early glow of starlight. 

But most days, he does enjoy pushing the heavy sheets off the double bed in his little wooden Earth-home, situated in the rural expanse of northern Russia. The logs that make up the slanted ceiling give him a cozy feeling, the thick rug underfoot a special warmth, even though it’s far below freezing outside. He still puts on socks. Thick pants. A t-shirt, then a second, long-sleeved layer. His coat and toque are by the patio door, but otherwise, he’s ready for a romp in the snow right now. He’s ignored his frosty backyard for far too long, and last night, he finally got his prime distraction to agree to join him.

As soon as Hikaru puts his foot on the stairs, he knows he’s in for a treat. The scent of fresh baking permeates the air, not the artificial, shipboard synthesized proteins but _real_ home cooking. Every step he takes brings him more of the delightful smell. Their bottom floor is comprised of just the living room, storage, the kitchen, and a little hallway to the front door, so he gets a clear view as soon as he’s down. His eyes go straight to the honey curls bent over the old-fashioned stove, the thick fuzz of a gold woolen sweater, and the delicate, pale hands clutching at the oven’s edge. 

The rest of Pavel is obscured by the counter, and Hikaru strolls around it, already hungry, but has to stop when he gets the full view. The sweater, it seems, is all Pavel’s wearing. His entire bottom half is bare: no pants, no underwear, not even socks. His tight, round ass is slightly thrust back towards Hikaru, the rest of Pavel’s lithe body arched over the stove, his eyes clearly fixed on the readout. Hikaru just barely manages to keep his mouth quiet, and he creeps closer at a whisper so as not to disturb this natural beauty. 

At Pavel’s body, Hikaru melts into it, wraps his arms around Pavel’s waist, kissing Pavel’s cheek as Pavel gasps, neck arching back over Hikaru’s shoulder to spot the perpetrator. Hikaru’s pants flatten into the back of Pavel’s legs, his crotch nestling against Pavel’s crack, and for a moment, Hikaru considers grabbing one of the knives out of their holster and slicing off the sweater that gives Pavel that last shred of decency. So much for curtailing his distraction. 

Before Hikaru can profess his appreciation, Pavel murmurs, “Good morning, _Hikaru._ ” He purrs Hikaru’s name like it’s candy. Reaching one arm back, his fingers pet through Hikaru’s dark hair, holding Hikaru forward as Pavel cranes back to press a chaste but firm kiss to Hikaru’s cheek. _This_ is why Hikaru comes here, why he likes waking up here. A happy Pavel is a perfect Pavel. As Pavel strokes down Hikaru’s face to trace the barely-there scratch of stubble, he nips at Hikaru’s jaw and mumbles, “I’m making you cookies.”

Hikaru could melt right here. Every time he comes to Earth, he says he’ll take the time to work with his plants, but then he falls into Pavel’s arms, and all he wants is _this_ and more of _this_. Very subtly, Pavel rolls his bottom against Hikaru’s crotch, and Hikaru’s hands roam down to the hem of the sweater, just barely restraining himself from touching Pavel’s cock. It’d be so easy to cup it, to grab whatever peeks out beneath the brim, to grab Pavel’s balls in his hand and see if they’re cold in this harsh Russian winter, if he needs to massage them to warm them up. Pavel’s a dangerous little minx to have around, and evidently a forgetful one. 

Hikaru can’t help but chuckle, “This is a _great_ morning. But clearly someone forgot they promised to come gardening with me.” As soon as he says it, Pavel’s face blanches, only for a split second. Then it’s back to the usual youthful fire.

Pavel answers hotly, “I did not forget.” But he’s almost pouting, which is a clear sign of him being stubborn, unwilling to admit a mistake. Not a little one like this that he thinks he can get away with, anyway. Hikaru finds himself grinning, both at his boyfriend’s adorable show of denial and the general pleasure of having a half-naked Pavel in his arms. The cookies must be almost done; their aroma is so potent. 

Lifting an eyebrow, Hikaru pulls one hand away from Pavel’s waist. He uses it to lightly swat the side of Pavel’s rear, which makes Pavel snap to attention, stifling a yelp. His skin’s very sensitive, and he’s always so responsive to getting spanked. Hikaru asks gently, “If you’re planning on coming outside with me, where are your pants? Not that I’m complaining...”

“I don’t need them,” Pavel snaps. And that makes both of Hikaru’s eyebrows rise.

“In the dead of winter? With all that snow?” He nods towards the window above the sink, and though it isn’t snowing anymore, the bushy tree on their lawn is sagging with the weight of all the white. 

“I am Russian,” Pavel scoffs, as though there’s any way Hikaru could’ve possibly forgotten. “This veather is nothing.”

“This is Russian snow.” Which means cold enough to kill.

“And I can take it in my birthday suit.”

Now _there’s_ something Hikaru would like to see. But he’s not cruel enough to say it. He knows if he goads Pavel, it’s going to happen, so Hikaru just says nothing, stands content in the knowledge that he’s right, and wraps himself tighter around Pavel’s thin form, one hand bunching up the fabric over Pavel’s breast and the other palming Pavel’s thigh. 

The oven makes an abrupt chiming sound, and Pavel elbows Hikaru off him, needing enough space to open the door. Hikaru automatically turns for a cloth to use for an oven mitt, but Pavel’s already used the end of his sleeve. The black tray he places on the stovetop is loaded with fluffy white spheres. Unable to resist, Hikaru reaches for one, but Pavel smacks his hand away and says tightly, “I’m not finished, and they’re for after gardening, anyway.” In other words, Hikaru’s in the doghouse.

He’s still primarily amused as Pavel squeezes past him, wandering through the living room and to the glass patio door, where their shoes, coats, hats, and scarves are piled in a messy heap. Pavel takes a seat on the short stool next to them and starts tugging on a thick, fur-lined boot, while Hikaru trails over, shaking his head and glad, at least, that their backyard is fenced in. 

Pavel’s got half the lacing done up by the time Hikaru gets there. Hikaru says as gently as he can, “It’s okay, Pavel. I forgive you for forgetting. Go get some pants.” He nods towards the stairs, but Pavel just glares up at him, ties a thick bow with the laces and tugs on the other one. 

He huffs, “I did _not_ forget.” It’s difficult to take him seriously and look at his fierce face while his cock is nestled against the wood of the stool, peaking out of the gold fabric like a beacon for Hikaru’s eyes. He’s starting to wonder why he bothers with plants at all when he has a prize like Pavel to cultivate, but then, he knows he can’t let all his personal cohesion go out the airlock just for a boyfriend that’s totally his soulmate.

When Pavel stands up, boots stopping just below his knees, he looks like something out of a fashion-pornography mix, beautiful and stunning and horribly impractical. Silhouetted in the sunlight reflecting off the snow, he’s almost got an aura of light, and for a moment, Hikaru feels a stab of guilt for what he’s going to do: let this gorgeous creature out in the harsh winter. He has to remind himself that Pavel is a grown man who can make his own decisions, however stubborn and childish they are. 

So Hikaru shrugs and tugs on his own shoes, grabs a Starfleet-branded coat and his blue knit toque—a treasured present from Spock—and waits for Pavel to grab his own accessories. 

Pavel doesn’t grab anything, so Hikaru rolls his eyes and pulls the red scarf off the hanger—embroidered with Pavel’s full name in Russian, courtesy of Uhura—and wraps it around Pavel’s neck, who stands obstinately still like a particularly alluring mannequin. 

When he’s done, they both stand there, staring at one another, locked into a strange standoff that Hikaru eventually gives into. He slides the door open, blinks against the jarring whiteness of their snow-covered lot, and steps out into it with a hefty crunching sound. His boot sinks down a good dozen centimeters, and he’s grateful that the plants he needs to look at today aren’t too far from the house; trudging over to his trees before they leave for the Enterprise is going to be an ordeal if it’s still this frozen. 

He’s both mildly surprised and amused when Pavel follows, stepping easily out and sinking down. The tip of his cock bobs in the air as he walks, something Hikaru can’t help but look back at. A part of Hikaru enjoys the sight, but another part worries they’ll have to call Dr. McCoy up by the end of this day.

Hikaru’s Grazerite herbs are along the left fence, so thickly covered that he can’t even see their planter box. Like most of the plants he keeps here, they thrive in the winter, but they need to be checked in on all the same, as one spoiled root can ruin the whole harvest, and he’s hoping to have a good supply of herbs for tea when he gets back to the Enterprise. He kneels down beside them, his thermal pants deflecting all the moisture, and Pavel crouches next to him, exposed hands on exposed knees. Hikaru’s guilt spikes, but when he looks at Pavel’s face, there’s no pain: only determination. 

Then begins the arduous task of gently clearing holes around the roots of the little vine-trees, something he probably should’ve brought gloves for, but it’s easy enough to wrap his finger in his coat’s sleeve and carve out the circles. He doesn’t ask Pavel to help, because Pavel’s sweater isn’t meant for the outdoors and will soak right through. Fortunately, Pavel doesn’t offer any help. He just sits there looking incredibly delicious, and Hikaru tries in vain to concentrate on his herbs; he needs to make sure their roots are a healthy blue, not green. 

Beside him, Pavel’s pale skin is starting to flush pink. In Hikaru’s peripherals, he can see where the sweater doesn’t quite make it around Pavel’s bottom, so Pavel’s rear hovers, bare, just above the snow, a perfect curve of peach on white. Sometimes Pavel’s just so irresistibly cute, and it’s a wonder Hikaru manages to get through his whole set of a twenty roots. Shuffling over for each new plant, Hikaru starts in on his Mrennenimian noilednad, which needs help in this Terran atmosphere to fully bloom. When he pinches the long, vein-covered leaves, the tiny yellow buds attached unfurl into sets of ten petals. Hikaru’s halfway up its left side when something soft brushes his cheek, and he turns as Pavel kisses him, so tender. He can feel the flutter of Pavel’s eyelashes falling down, the light curls on Pavel’s forehead, the jut of Pavel’s nose. When Hikaru looks at him, Pavel pulls back, drops his hand to Hikaru’s leg, runs up it with his fingers dug in and says, deep and husky, “We could be hawing more fun.” He gives Hikaru’s ear a kiss as he says it, his whole body shifting to nuzzle into Hikaru’s, and Hikaru can’t stop the shiver of delight that always comes with having Pavel Chekov draped over him. 

At the same time, he recognizes the distraction tactic for what it is, and he says, “You’re just trying to get me back inside so you don’t have to admit you forgot.”

That shatters the trail of kisses. Pavel jerks away, scowls and insists, “I’m fine.” Under Hikaru’s steady gaze, he slowly adapts back into a sultry, smoldering look that could have any man at his feet, and he runs his hand along Hikaru’s crotch while he purrs, “I just vant you to _fuck me._ ” There’s something about his accent wrapped around those words that sets Hikaru off. It takes a great deal of will power to continue the game. 

He can be stubborn too. He reaches into the snow around them, scoops up a tidy handful, and presses it against Pavel’s knee. Pavel’s eyes flicker down to stare at it, and Hikaru slowly, torturously smears it along Pavel’s leg, waiting for Pavel to give in and retreat, but Pavel holds strong. Hikaru trails the crumbling snow into the creamy expanse of Pavel’s inner thigh, stopping before he hits Pavel’s crotch; he isn’t that cruel. A part of him would love to see Pavel’s cute dick engulfed in snow, but Hikaru isn’t going to be the one to put it there for the sake of making a point. Instead, he just rubs the melting pool of water in his palm along Pavel’s frigid skin, so warm below the surface. Pavel parts his lips and merely stares for a moment, his eyes hazy and his cheeks flushed. Hikaru gets caught looking back and forth between Pavel’s handsome face and the spongy head of his young cock, starting to stain purple in the cold. 

Finally, Pavel licks his lips and murmurs, “Hikaru, I want to be fucked.” 

Hikaru’s entranced. He gives in. He can’t resist. Pavel gives him that quick, insurmountable burst of sensuality that leaves him too hungry to wait, so he doesn’t stand up to head back for the house. Instead, he shoves Pavel’s shoulders, pushes him suddenly down in the snow, Pavel squeaking in surprise but not fast enough to counter it. One second, they’re crouching beside one another, and the next, Pavel’s lying across the powdery snow, Hikaru right against his ass, his legs stretched out to either side of Hikaru’s body, still bent at the knees. He looks like an angel, all framed in white, something unspeakably pretty, so perfect that it takes Hikaru’s breath away. Hikaru’s _so_ lucky. He’s seen several dozen worlds, met thousands of people, and he’s never met anyone he’d rather have than _his Pavel Chekov._ He reaches to brush Pavel’s curls aside, arranging them like a halo, while Pavel’s chest rises and falls with his breath. 

Hikaru asks quietly, “Would you be content to be fucked right here?” It’s meant to be a kind plea for this silly stand off to end, but it only puts the fire back in Pavel’s eyes. 

He draws his knees so far back they nearly hit his chest, boots pulled out of the snow, exposing his moist, pink ass to Hikaru’s eyes. Nearly glaring, he says only, “Yes.”

A flurry of daydreams flood through Hikaru’s mind. He’d _love_ to fuck Pavel in the snow. He’d love to fuck Pavel anywhere, but the way it highlights Pavel’s colours and makes him pant misted breath and grow damp around the edges is wildly enticing. Pavel isn’t shivering, isn’t even trembling, and when Hikaru doesn’t move, Pavel pulls his legs back, holding himself open like an offering, his rosy little puckered hole peaking out from between his cheeks like an early holiday present, winking now and then as Pavel’s legs strain to hold themselves in the air. His balls look particularly tight, delicate, nestled between his legs, and his cock, though slightly smaller than usual, doesn’t look entirely flaccid. There’s even a little bead at the tip of its slick mouth that looks more like precum than snow, and Hikaru’s seized with the want to lick it off and find out. 

But he can’t bring himself to do it. Even though it’s left Pavel’s ass cheeks glistening wet and shiny, he can’t leave them pressed into the snow on their own. He certainly can’t fuck Pavel hard into the ice. Pavel wouldn’t be able to be comfortable, no matter what he says, and he’d probably tense, be _so_ tight around Hikaru’s cock, but he’d have those little mewls of pain that he gets when he’s jumped in too far and he’s too mulish to say anything or go back. Even now, Pavel’s eyes are just as defiant as they are lustful, practically daring Hikaru to get it over with. 

Hikaru growls, “Fine.” But he only bends down so he can get a firm grip around Pavel’s waist, and when he sits up again, he pulls Pavel with him. Pavel yelps, and Hikaru straightens, rises up, gets to his feet with Pavel draped over his shoulder like a kidnapped princess, bare legs kicking in surprise and loose cock shoved up against his jacket. Hikaru makes a few steps towards the house before Pavel settles and his squeals turn into noises of delight. 

Hikaru hears a tiny, self-whispered, “ _Da!_ ” all full of excitement. Hikaru’s hands are already itching to grab Pavel’s ass; somebody’s in for a spanking. First he wants to reach the bed, but he only gets halfway through the living room before Pavel’s wrestling free, tugging Hikaru down to the warm rug and humping him, littering him in kisses, tugging at his clothes, and Hikaru remembers exactly why he loves Earth after all.


End file.
